The ship’s bell clanged for the end of homeroom, and as the librarian handed him the three passes, Ben stood up. “Well, thanks, Mrs. Sinclair. This’ll really help us a lot.”
“I’m glad, and thank you for understanding about the book, Ben. I’m so sorry about the mistake.”
Ben shrugged and smiled. “Everything worked out fine. So, I’ll see you later.”
“Yes . . . and by the way, Ben, what you did on Saturday, saving Robert that way? That was quite something .”
“Thanks . . . lots of other people helped too. But thanks.”
Leaving the workroom, Ben didn’t head straight for the door. He walked by the front desk, and as he passed, he glanced at the sheet of paper lying next to the large envelope.
The handwriting was small, but boxy and clear. Black ink.
Ben had no trouble reading the signature at the bottom of the note:
J. Lyman
He wasn’t surprised—but it still sent a shiver through him, and as he left the library he took an anxious look down the hallway, first one way, then the other. He turned right and hurried toward the walkway into the Annex, barely aware of the kids around him, not aware of anything except this sudden feeling of vulnerability. Because this business with the old book? It was the clearest proof yet that Lyman knew Ben was up to something, that the man was actively following him, watching him.
As uncomfortable as that made him feel, something else scared him even more: Lyman had probably studied that book all weekend long, examining the carpenter’s detailed drawings, thinking about each staircase, each beam, locating each bricked-up fireplace. He could have made a list of every possible hiding place in the whole school. Lyman was smart, and he was deadly serious—and now he was on high alert, ready to defend against anything that might stop the theme park. There was no telling what he might have discovered. Or what his next move might be.
By the time he had reached the long corridor at the east end of the Annex, all Ben’s confidence, all his enthusiasm, all his courage to deal with the challenges ahead—all of it was gone, vanished. And at that moment he understood Jill’s mood exactly. Because now he was the one feeling discouraged. And outsmarted. And under attack. And . . . scared.
NO!
Ben clenched his jaw and shoved the door aside as he walked into the chorus room.
He was not going to let this or anything else stop him. He was responsible for this ship now. Did Lyman and his bosses think he was going to get all shaky and go hide under his bunk? Well, they were wrong. If they wanted a fight, then he was ready—Benjamin Pratt, on deck and reporting for duty!
He dropped his book bag behind the risers and picked up his packet of music. He looked like he was just another kid getting ready to sing, but in his mind a battle was raging. And he was winning .
CHAPTER 3
No Such Thing
“What have you got so far?”
“Not much,” said Jill, “but it’s a start.” She pulled out a sheet of paper and laid it on the table.
Ben and Jill had eaten lunch quickly, and then used their hall passes to get from the cafeteria to the library. Sitting in the alcove on the east wall of the large room, they still had fifteen minutes before the next period.
Of course, Robert was also there. The gauze and tape that had wrapped his head at the hospital had been replaced by a small bandage that covered the seven stitches above his left eye. He was working at a table over in the far corner, “’cause I don’t want you losers stealing my ideas.”
Ben looked at the neat columns of words and phrases on Jill’s paper, amazed all over again at her talent for organization. Using the tip of her pencil, she began a guided tour, but she seemed halfhearted, almost casual about it, as if she were trying to stifle a yawn. It was a rotten attitude, but Ben didn’t think it was the right moment to challenge her about it.
“Okay,” she said, “the clue is, ‘When five bells sound, time to sit down.’ So first, what kind of a bell was Captain Oakes talking about? It could have been a church bell, a school bell, a ship’s bell, a doorbell, a dinner bell, a clock chime, a fire bell, or maybe some other kind of warning bell. And here, when it says ‘time to sit down’? The five bells are the signal, and then comes the sitting down part.”
Jill tapped her pencil at the top of the second column of words.
“Now, you have to sit down on something. So it makes sense that we’re looking for a chair, or a bench, or a stool, or a school desk, or maybe a window seat, something like that, except it has to be something that’s been here ever since the school was built.”
“Yeah . . . ,” Ben said slowly, “but actually, you can sit on just about anything, like a railing or a step, a low wall, even a gravestone, right?”
“Well . . . yes,” Jill said, “but I think the captain’s carpenter was part of this hiding process—like with the way the copper plate was hidden up on the third floor, the fancy woodworking? So whatever we’re looking for, I think it’s going to be made of wood.”
Ben shook his head. “We don’t know for sure that the carpenter was involved . . . plus, a ship’s carpenter had to be able to fix almost anything, and sometimes he would have to use copper or lead or canvas, even iron bars and plates—all sorts of materials. We shouldn’t rule out anything .”
Jill glared at him. “So is this the way it’s going to be? I beat my brains out thinking up a bunch of new ideas, and then you sit there and tear them to bits?”
Ben stared at her, surprised. This went way beyond a bad attitude. “What are you talking about? It’s not like I gave you orders to go ‘beat your brains out’ on this. After homeroom I told you what happened this morning in the library, and then you’re the one who said you might have some time to think about it during second period, and how you wanted to crack the clue in a hurry. And now you’re showing me your ideas, and I’m just thinking out loud. I mean, if I had pulled a bunch of stuff together, then you’d be the one reacting to it, right?”
Jill kept glaring at him.
Ben was tempted to glare right back and say, Okay, what’s really going on here? Why all the drama? But he decided not to push it. Besides, maybe she was in a bad mood because of something simple . . . like not getting enough sleep over the weekend. Her face did look kind of pale today, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Maybe she just wasn’t feeling well. Anyway, if something was really bothering her, she wasn’t going to tell him anything until she was good and ready, no matter what. Better to back off a little.
“Look,” he said, being careful with his tone of voice, “you’re smarter than I am, and tons more organized. I know that. And I know how much I need your help with all this. But I also know that I still get a good idea now and then, you know, like one or two a month. And when I ask questions and stuff, I’m just trying to figure things out. It’s not like I’m attacking you, or saying you’re stupid. Stubborn, maybe”—he paused to grin—“but never stupid. Okay?”
She heaved a grumpy sigh, but Ben thought he saw a hint of a smile. “Okay,” she said. “Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. So . . . what now?”
Ben felt like he had his co-commander back on board, but just barely. It was time to take charge, to jump into action, to move things forward—which would be good for morale.
“Well . . . there’s definitely a bell here at school, right? The one just inside the office door. And it sure looks like it’s been there since the school began. So let’s go take a look. And I’ll take a picture of it. For our report.”
Jill rolled her eyes. “Whoop-de-doo—we’re going to take a picture of a bell. Sounds thrilling .” But she put her papers into a folder and stood up. “Well, don’t just sit there, Pratt. Let’s go.”
Back at his table Robert was hunched over a book, taking furious notes. He barely glanced up as they headed for the door.
Ms. Shubert was at the front desk, and Ben said, “Is it okay if we leave our stuff on the table in that alcove for a few minutes? We’ve got to
go to the office.”
She smiled. “No problem. I’ll keep an eye on everything .”
Ben stopped at the library entrance and peeked to the right and then the left before stepping into the hallway, and about five seconds later he looked over his shoulder. He noticed that he was tapping his tongue against the back of his two front teeth—a nervous habit.
“Relax,” Jill said, trying to sound bored. “Lyman’s the only janitor now, and there are three lunch periods in a row. He’s stuck in the cafeteria with mop-up duty for at least an hour.”
“See?” Ben grinned at her. “Figuring out stuff like that? That’s why you are completely indispensable.”
When they walked into the office, Mrs. Hendon was at her desk back behind the counter, a spoon in one hand and a container of yogurt in the other.
She looked up at them and smiled. “Hi, Jill. Hi, Ben. May I help you?”
Ben held up his hall pass. “We’re working on a project about the history of the school, and we wanted to look at the old bell. Is that okay?”
“Sure,” she said, nodding to the right of the door. “It’s right there, but be careful not to ring it—it’s very loud.” She went back to her lunch.
Ben got out his camera. He had heard this bell ring every school day since the beginning of fourth grade, but had never really looked at it. Hanging from an iron bracket, it was just above his eye level, and he stood on tiptoe to get a better look.
The bell hadn’t been polished for at least a hundred years, was his first thought. The brass had turned a deep blackish brown. But there was lettering on it, engraved, cut deeply enough into the metal that he could still read it. He nudged Jill and whispered, “Check out the name of the ship this came from—HMS Safeguard !”
She shrugged, as if she wasn’t interested.
But Ben was genuinely excited, and he snapped three photos.
Two bronze plaques were attached to the wall, one on either side of the bell. The metal edges seemed like they were buried in the wall, but Ben saw it was just from all the coats of paint that had built up over the years.
The plaque to the right of the bell was a history lesson.
On December 16, 1778, HMS Safeguard entered Barclay Bay under cover of darkness and directed cannon fire at the town of Edgeport. USS Stalwart, commanded by Captain Duncan Oakes, engaged the enemy. After a heated exchange, the British ship caught fire and burned to the waterline, and her officers and crew were taken captive. Timber salvaged from the Safeguard was later used to make the library shelves, classroom doors, student desks, and many other fixtures in this school.
“Cool!” Ben whispered, and he took two photos of the plaque, one straight on, and the other from an angle that also got the bell in the frame.
Keeping the camera up in front of his face, he switched his aim and snapped a couple of quick pictures of the plaque to the left of the bell.
Then he looked at the inscription—and almost dropped his camera.
“Hey!” Ben whispered. “Check this out!”
Jill was sitting on the bench to the left of the office door, looking at last week’s school newsletter. Ben was getting sick and tired of her “I’m so bored” act, but he was too excited to lose his temper.
She came and stood beside him, then squinted at the plaque.
ONE BELL •
TWO BELLS ••
THREE BELLS •• •
FOUR BELLS •• ••
FIVE BELLS •• •• •
SIX BELLS •• •• ••
SEVEN BELLS •• •• •• •
EIGHT BELLS •• •• •• ••
“What’s that?” she said. “Morse Code or something?”
Ben shook his head. “I should have thought of this—my dad gave me a book, and there’s this story, ‘Death at Eight Bells,’ about a sailor who’s going to be hung from the yardarm at the end of the morning watch. Those dots? They show how to ring the bell in different patterns. It was how they used to keep time on board a ship. When the bell rang a pattern, everyone could tell what time it was. And one group of sailors got up and went on duty, and the group that had been standing watch got to rest.” He ran a finger across the five raised dots. “See? Five bells! ‘When five bells sound, time to sit down’!”
Jill nodded, “It’s interesting, but . . .”
“But what?”
“Well,” she said, “it doesn’t really help us find anything, does it? I mean, this bell never rings the pattern for five bells. It’s always one clang for an announcement, or three at the beginning and end of a period. And that’s actually just a recording of the bell, played through speakers.”
Ben frowned at the plaque. “I still think it’s important. I mean, this bell is from the Safeguard !”
Jill shrugged. “That could just be a coincidence.”
“A coincidence? Maybe . . . ,” Ben said, “but I’m starting to feel like there’s no such thing .”
Jill turned away, then nudged his arm. “Look!” she whispered.
It was Lyman, walking straight for the office.
“Like I said,” muttered Ben, “no such thing .”
CHAPTER 4
Eye of the Tiger
Lyman came into the office and walked directly to the counter without even glancing at Ben or Jill.
Mrs. Hendon looked up. “Hi, Jerry. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Rita. I was expecting a letter from the payroll office, and I think it landed in somebody else’s mailbox. I didn’t want to go poking around myself—could you take a quick look?”
“Sure thing,” she said, putting down her yogurt and heading for the wide rack of wooden cubbyholes.
Jill had already walked out into the hallway. Ben felt his heart thumping, felt his mouth getting dry, and his instinct was to get out of there fast. He almost bolted.
But then he remembered the way he’d felt earlier, at the beginning of chorus. And he asked himself the same question.
Was he going to get all shaky and go hide under his bunk?
Ben jammed a big smile onto his face and forced himself to sound loud and cheerful. “Hey, this is great—perfect timing! Mrs. Hendon, would you mind if I took a picture of you with Mr. Lyman? We want to get photos of all the staff as part of our school history project. And you two? You’re the ones who really make the school work.”
Mrs. Hendon smiled and touched her hair. “That’s a sweet idea, Ben, but I don’t think . . .”
“Please?” said Ben. “It’ll just take a second.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, still adjusting her hair. She quickly stepped around the counter and stood next to Lyman.
“Okay,” Ben said, “smile . . . one, two—come on, Mr. Lyman, a really big smile . . . perfect . . . and . . . three!” The camera flashed. “Great! And I’ll be sure you both get a copy. Thanks!”
As he stepped out into the hall, Ben heard Mrs. Hendon say, “He is such a nice young man!” He didn’t hear Lyman’s reply.
Ben felt like he was floating above the floor as he and Jill hurried toward the library.
When they rounded the corner in the hallway, Jill said, “What was all that about?”
“That,” said Ben, “was a victory. And it was about letting Lyman know I’m not afraid of him.”
“Well, if you ask me,” said Jill, “it was stupid. You should be afraid of him. The less contact either of us has with that man, the better.”
Ben shook his head. “You said it yourself: With Mr. Keane gone, he’s focused on me now, and on you, too. And we have to deal with it. This is a big building, and he can’t be everywhere at once. We can keep ahead of him—and we know things he doesn’t.”
“Correction,” said Jill. “We have some clues—we don’t actually know anything .”
“Well, not yet,” Ben admitted.
Jill nodded. “Exactly. And until you’re sure there’s a cage around a tiger, it’s pretty dumb to dangle meat in front of it. Right?”
&n
bsp; Ben was feeling clever, and he wasn’t going to let Jill get the last word. “Yes . . . but sometimes you have to look it in the eye and let it know you’re not scared. And that’s what I just did. I looked a tiger in the eye . . . and then I said, ‘Smile!’ And I’m glad I did it.”
Jill shook her head. “I still say it was stupid.”
Robert was just leaving as they walked back into the library. “Hi—found some great stories about the school, amazing pictures, too.”
“Yeah?” said Ben. “Like what?”
“You’ll hear about it—when I give my part of the report. Catch you later.” He turned toward the Annex, then stopped and said, “Hey, did that guy find you?”
Ben stiffened. “What guy?” But he already knew.
“The janitor. He was in here cleaning up over where you were working. He asked if I knew where you were, thought you might have left your things here by mistake.”
“Yeah,” Ben said, “he found us. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Jill was already at the table in the alcove, opening her backpack. “Was there anything in your bag,” she asked, “anything he could have taken?”
“Nope,” he said, patting his pockets. “Got it all right here. How about your backpack? Anything missing?”
“No, I took my folder with me. But my books are all out of order—someone went through them.”
Jill’s eyes suddenly got huge. She grabbed Ben’s arm, put a finger to her lips, and shook her head.
He got the message instantly—bugs! Lyman could have planted a listening device in the alcove—or even in their backpacks! Ben was jolted by that same sick feeling he’d gotten after Lyman’s visit to the sailboat—only this seemed like more of a direct attack. If the man was listening, it was time to give him an earful.
Fear Itself Page 2